


Bull's Eye Squall

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Au nanny, Eventual Smut, Greg is a father, John is a Saint, M/M, Mycroft being a father, Romance, Sherlock is clueless, nanny!au, nanny!john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft's closest friend dies, leaving his one year old son in his care. He finds a confidant in Gregory Lestrade and a nanny in John Watson. </p><p>Sherlock is drawn in by his brother's new nanny, and amazingly, his new child. </p><p>This is the story of two pairs coming together under strange circumstances. Mycroft and Greg, and John and Sherlock. What they teach each other is just as important as how they fall in love. </p><p>(Bull's Eye Squall is a term used offshore South Africa for a squall forming in fair weather. A squall is a sudden sharp increase in wind speed which is usually associated with active weather such as rain showers, thunderstorms, or heavy snow.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



Richard had been Mycroft's best friend for over twenty years. They'd met when they were seven and had been thick as thieves in no time. They went to the same schools, even through university, and it seemed they might be joined at the hip forever. 

Mycroft never would admit it, but he was more than in love with Richard, he was dedicated to him in a manner he wanted no one to know. Their private life was destined to be a secret. Richard was part of a prestigious family, backed by money and strict social codes. 

He was the only male child in the family, two older sisters and one younger, and therefore the pressure to keep the family name alive was his alone. He'd dated plenty of women, all of whom were picked out by his mother, but had always returned to Mycroft's arms. 

\-----

"Emily is an idiot." He said with a sigh, leaning back against Mycroft's chest and taking a long drag off the joint. 

Mycroft ran his hands through Richard's hair and kissed the crown of his head. "And we can't have that, can we?" 

"I don't know." Rich said with a shrug, deep brown eyes alight with mischief. "As far as I'm concerned she'd simply be an organ donor. Maybe I need a stupid one. She can give the family her uterus and in exchange I'll treat her as well as a friend." 

Mycroft sighed so deeply he felt almost deflated and Richard turned in his seat to stare into his sad eyes. He took Mycroft's hands in his and kissed his knuckled softly. Mycroft took the joint and looked away to puff at it. 

"I'm sorry." Richard whispered. 

"I'm hungry." Mycroft replied. 

"You're always hungry," Richard teased. "don't change the subject." 

"What do you want me to say, Richard? I hope you find someone stupid enough to not notice you're buggering your best friend?" Mycroft asked loudly. 

"Say you love me." Richard whispered as he ran fingers into Mycroft's short hair. 

"You know I do." Mycroft replied shortly. 

"So say it." Richard pleaded. 

"I love you." Mycroft said under his breath. 

"And I you, you idiot." Richard said with a wink. "Now, take me to bed!" 

Mycroft left the joint to burn itself out in the ashtray and walked with Richard into the hotel bedroom. The windows were open and a slight breeze was drifting in. Mycroft refused to sulk over the fact that they would never have a bed to call their own. Sulking was not his fashion. 

\-----

Emily, it turned out, was just stupid enough to ignore the signs. She was a sweet girl, but one that had left school early to find a husband and never really turned her brain back on. She loved Richard, and he loved her back in his own way, and they were to marry the next year. 

\-----

"Oh, Christ!" Mycroft moaned. 

Richard pulled off his cock with a loud smack and grinned at him. "Shut up! My bloody bride is right next door!" 

Mycroft bit his lip and breathed roughly through his nose as Richard took him back into his mouth and swallowed around the head. His hips stuttered and he came long and hard as Richard sucked it all down. He licked Mycroft clean and stood up, moving to the sink to brush his teeth quietly. 

"I'm going to miss you." Mycroft said, tucking himself back in and picking through his best man speech. 

"You don't get to miss me, I'm not going anywhere." Richard replied with a sad smile. 

\-----

It was Emily's morning sickness that ruined everything. Mycroft was over visiting before work, as he did every morning, when Richard pulled him into the loo for a quick wank. They were writhing against each other when Emily walked in to throw up in the toilet. 

\-----

"South Africa? That's absurd!" Mycroft shouted, less than a week later. 

"The family has several ventures there. Emily says if we move she won't tell my parents. I'm sorry, Myc. There's nothing I can do. I love you." Richard said just before the line cut out. 

\-----

A year and a half later Mycroft got a call in the middle of the night from a man with a thick accent. Richard and Emily had been in an accident. Their Land Rover had flipped three times before it had stopped off the side of the road. The baby had been at home. There was a will.


	2. Little Man

A familiar back sedan was waiting outside the crime scene when Sherlock had finished trying to get information from the dark haired detective. The man blamed the grey coming in at his temples on Sherlock and told him to leave. Sherlock secretly nicked the man's badge as he went to ask his brother what he was doing there. He was surprised at what he found inside the car with him. 

"Is that a BABY?" He asked with a wrinkled nose. 

"What do you think?" Mycroft replied. 

The detective strode over and was about to yell at Sherlock over his missing badge when he say the boy in his car seat. 

"Oh, well, look at you! How old are you little man? Hmm? Twelve months or so?" Lestrade said to the child, letting it chew on his finger. 

Mycroft and Sherlock stared on in shock as the little boy smiled and gurgled at the detective. 

"He's one. I don't go in for stating their age by month." Mycroft said. 

"Can I hold him for a mo?" Lestrade asked, hands already on the buckles.   
Mycroft nodded and Lestrade picked the boy out of the car and spun him in the air. 

"Well, hello. How are you doing?" He asked cheerily. 

It was the first time either Holmes brother had seen Greg in a cheery state. Cheer was not what followed him and his coworkers into dark alleys. Cheer was not a feeling brought on by having to fend off Sherlock Holmes. Exhaustion, perhaps, but never cheer. 

"This is Michael. Michael, this is detective Lestrade." Mycroft said. 

"Well, it's good to meet you Michael. Now, I have to get the badge back that daddy's brother just stole from me." Lestrade said, handing Michael over and holding his hand out to Sherlock. 

"It's not his!" Sherlock hissed before he handed the badge back. "I've never seen it before." 

"Michael is a new addition to the family. An old friend of mine...well, I'm his guardian now." Mycroft said, leaning over to strap Michael back in. 

"Oh, alright. Hey, I've got the number of a good nanny group. Got a little girl of my own, you know. We could even do a play date." Greg said, rooting around in his wallet and pulling out a wrinkled card. "Our nanny Sarah's great with the little one. Give them a call." 

Mycroft took the card and looked it over. "Thank you, Lestrade." 

"Call me Greg. Gotta go." Greg said as he went back to the crime scene with a bounce in his step. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and slipped into the sedan. Mycroft got in after them and they drove off towards Sherlock's flat. Sherlock was uncustomarily silent for a long while before he turned to his brother. 

"I'm sorry about Richard." He said softly, refusing to meet Mycroft's eyes. "I'm sure you'll do him proud." 

Mycroft knew he didn't have to say anything in response. Emotional outpourings such as that happened rarely between the brothers, and it was best if they went unmentioned. The only sound for the rest of the way was the small bell going off in one of Michael's toys. 

\-----

The maid went to take Michael from the car but Mycroft stopped her. "I'll do that. Can you please get a bottle ready, Willamena?" 

The girl nodded and went back into the house. Mycroft stood for a moment with his hands at his sides. Michael looked up at him with a hand in his mouth and his eyebrows raised. 

"Well...hello...little man." Mycroft tried, in a tone he was not used to. 

The boy smiled at him and something tightened in Mycroft's chest as he undid the buckles. 

\-----

An hour later Mycroft was rocking the cot next to his bed softly while he read. The baby was falling asleep and the whole house was silent. He could hear crickets outside, as Willamena had opened the windows, and was suddenly quite happy to be away from the city. He closed his eyes and let the cool air of the spring evening tickle his skin. The sun had only just gone down and the world seemed so happy just to hang in early evening warmth. 

When he'd bought the house his coworkers had questioned it. They all lived in huge apartments in town, even the ones with families and children to care for. He was single and spent little time away from work, and they wondered why he would want a home so far from the city. He'd ignored them and began the slow renovation of the three bedroom house he and Michael now called home. 'It was perfect for a growing boy' he thought absently. 

Mummy was coming down this weekend to meet the child and help him with the nursery. Mycroft knew he should have put the cot in the other room, but as he looked down at the child's sleeping face he couldn't bear to think of him far away, even if only by a few rooms. 

He took the bottle from boy's small hands and replaced it with a stuffed bear Anthea had bought him. It was small and black and, unlike most other 'teddy bears', was shaped like an actual bear. It was as close to lifelike as you'd want with that sort of thing. The little fingers gripped the soft fur as Michael slept on. Mycroft brushed the hair across his forehead and leaned down to kiss the soft skin just there. It occurred to him that he wished he could be rasing him along with Richard. 

He shook himself and grabbed his laptop, typing in the Web address from the business card Greg had given him and perusing the site. The reviews looked acceptable and they had pages laid out for every one of their respective nannies. He went through them, noting ages and hobbies, until he came upon the profile of a young man working his way through medical school. 

'John Watson', as he was called, was a first year medical student who had worked as a sitter for seven years. He knew first aide and how to swim, along with being single and owning a reliable car. There were testimonials from his past bosses and they all looked impressive. 

Mycroft texted the address to Anthea and asked her to do a full check on the man, no reason not to be thorough, then closed the computer and switched off the light next to the bed, laying on his side and watching Michael take little breaths by moonlight.


	3. A Good Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and John meet.

The next three days went by quickly, what with Anthea bringing in an expert on early childhood development and making plans to visit Richard's parents in the care home the next week. Mycroft spent all the time he could reading about children and playtime and socialization. He made up his mind to invite Greg Lestrade over that weekend with his daughter. 

On the third day Mycroft met with the young med student he'd found on the nanny site. John Watson showed up in a sensible car exactly three minutes early and with a wide smile. Mycroft watched him interact with Willamena in the front yard and was pleased that he wasn't flirting. The one thing he would not put up with was his nanny having relations with another staff member. 

"John." Mycroft said, holding his hand out as John came through the front door. "I'm Mycroft Holmes." 

"Good to meet you." John said with a wide smile. 

"If you follow me I'll introduce you." Mycroft said, leading the way to the sitting room. 

The large room was decorated in warm colors and gorgeous furniture. There was a playpen in the middle of the room with all sorts of toys spread around a flaxen haired child. He looked up at John expectantly and then at Mycroft. 

"Go ahead, Michael. This is our new friend John. He's going to watch after you when I have to go back to work." Mycroft said to the young boy.   
"Well, hello Michael. It's very nice to meet you. Do you want up?" John asked, reaching out to the child and wiggling his fingers. 

The child once again looked up at Mycroft, who smiled fondly, and then crawled towards John and let himself be lifted into his arms. He felt John's face with chubby fingers and squealed happily. 

"Walk with me and I'll lay out some ground rules." Mycroft said. 

John followed him out to a handsome back yard with blooming fruit trees and a small lawn, perfectly manicured. John sat next to Mycroft on a large bench and bounced Michael on his knee. 

"This week, if you choose to take the job, Willamena is going to show you around. You will shadow her until she is confident you can do everything on your own. Michael is not to be spoken to in mumbled words or 'baby talk' although I've read that using a playful tone is often appreciated by young children. 

There will be fresh produce and meats in the fridge at all times, as well as wholesome snacks in the pantry. Please do not bring any food for Michael from home. He is under no circumstances to have sodas or juices. 

I do own a telly, but it is not my wish to have him parked in front of it while you study. I am sure you have a full schedule, but such activities should be saved for while Michael is kipping or when he goes to sleep at night. 

My days off and Saturday and Sunday and I will need to spend all of my time with him then. You may be asked to come along to the park or on other outings, but you are by no means to become his sole caregiver. I will be with Michael in the mornings before work and in the evenings after work. I will require you to take a back seat whenever needed. 

I may seem stiff and strict at times, but it is all for Michael's benefit. He has only been in my care for a week, so I may need your opinion from time to time on things such as regular behavior of parents and whether Michael seems happy. I am unused to children and need to learn quickly what I must do. 

A schedule will be written up and you may change it as you see fit once speaking to my assistant, Anthea. You will strive as I have to create a loving and nurturing environment for my...for my son." 

When Mycroft finished he took Michael in his arms and brushed a curl from his forehead. John was taken aback by the almost sad look on Mycroft's face, but pushed it aside as a father not wanting to be away from his child. He figured that when Mycroft said Michael had just come into his care he meant that the mother had left the picture. The man obviously cared for the child, and that set his mind at ease. 

"Would you like to see the house?" Mycroft asked, still looking at Michael's face as he spoke. 

"Yes, thank you." John said. 

They walked in through the back door and turned left to enter a small laundry room with a state of the art washer and dryer as well as two drying racks and a large basin. 

"Michael's clothes are to be washed by hand. The detergent is here. He wears cotton nappies and they are picked up by a cleaning service every other day. You may deposit the dirty ones here." Mycroft said, pointing to a shiny white bin. 

They walked into a medium sized bedroom that had a bed to one side and a large bookcase and desk to the other. There was a window looking out on the backyard and, surprisingly enough, a fireplace. It was decorated in robin's egg blue and trimmed with white. 

"If you choose to take the job by the end of the week this will be your room. You may decorate it as you like as long as you don't use sticky tack on the walls. The fireplace is functional, and you have an en suite." Mycroft said, gesturing to a small door next to the bookcase. 

John looked in to see a perfectly white bathroom with a full bath and shower, then followed Mycroft down the hall to another medium sized room decorated in light green. 

"This will be Michael's room. We are decorating it this weekend with my mother. She had better taste than I and has had experience with children in the house. There will be a cot in here for Michael as well as his dresser and changing table, but he will spend most nights sleeping in my room."

Mycroft then led John to the kitchen and showed him where all the food was kept. There was a wide variety of fruit and veg as well as a fully stocked fridge. John almost choked when he was presented with a binder full of baby food recipes. 

"Everything Michael eats is made here. If you have not used a food processor you will learn. His favorite food is sweet potato." Mycroft said, and then, to Michael, "Michael, do you love sweet potato? Yes. It's quite good, isn't it? Full of nutrients for a growing boy." 

Michael giggled and pulled at Mycroft's ear and the man smiled softly at him, seeming to forget John's presence for the moment. 

"John. Yes, where was I?" Mycroft said absently, never breaking eye contact with Michael. 

"Food sir." John replied. 

"Oh, yes." Mycroft murmured, looking up. "You will not have a food allowance. Whatever you need will be provided by Willamena. Give her a list and she will pick it up weekly. The pay listed on the website is acceptable and I will give you forty pounds weekly for incidentals. Anything you pick up for Michael must be run by Anthea, but will be reimbursed. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, sir. It's more than generous of you." John said, trying to keep the smile on his face from looking manic. 

"I take very good care of my people, John, and if you wish to work for me you will never go without. Now, about your car. When was it last in for maintenance?" Mycroft asked. 

"Earlier this year." John replied. 

"We'll bring it to the shop. Get the things you need from it and I'll set you up with a loaner."

"Thank you, sir." John answered with a forced calm. 

It was all quite overwhelming, like finding you have a long lost uncle that has left you a great deal of money. 

"I need to spend some time with my son." Mycroft said with another small smile. "I will require your services at seven tonight. Can I expect you then?" 

"Yes, sir." John said eagerly. 

"Fine. I'll have my driver get the loaner for you. And John, I am entrusting you with one of the only things that has ever mattered to me. Do not disappoint."

John nodded and went out to his car, saying goodbye to Willamena on the way. 

Once the door was closed Mycroft kissed Michael on the forehead and walked him back to the sitting room. 

"He's a good man, Michael. Someday he'll save many lives." He whispered to the happy child.


	4. You Did Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John meet.

John arrived a few minutes before seven and knocked on the door. Willamena opened it and beckoned him in, passing him a stuffed bear and walking away. He heard voices from down the hall and walked into the sitting room to find a dark haired woman in a sleek dress dress and jacket with a mobile in one hand and a briefcase in the other. She was saying something about a meeting and Mycroft was walking around the room looking under the couch cushions and pulling at his hair.

"It must be here. I can't leave until I know Michael has it." He said.

John took a step forward and Mycroft looked up, his eyes quickly settling on the bear in John's arms.

"You brilliant man." He said, then, cocking his head to the side, added, "Although Willamena had it all along. That girl will be the death of me."

The dark haired woman looked John up and down at then went back to tapping at her mobile.

"Here, Michael. I told you I'd find it, didn't I?" Mycroft said, handing the bear to the boy and turning to John. "This is my assistant Anthea."

The woman spun around and nodded at John before reaching up and settling Mycroft's hair. Mycroft pulled a face as she fussed with it, but stood silently. When it was back in order she stuck the small comb in her pocket and handed the briefcase over.

"I'll be back late. Eleven, in all probability. I will call on the hour to speak with Michael, but he needs to be in bed at the latest by eight. Oh, dear, that means we'll only get to speak once...well, I suppose that'll have to do. I'll speak with you after that, then." Mycroft said, nodding to John and walking to the playpen and kissing Michael's forehead before leaving through the front door.

Anthea handed John a card and followed Mycroft out, sharp heels tap-tapping on the floor. John breathed a deep breath and went to sit with Michael. The boy crawled into his lap and lay on his back looking up into John's eyes.

"Your father seems to be a very busy man, Michael." He said cheerfully.

Michael giggled and gripped his finger in one small hand when John brushed a curl from his forehead. That curl seemed to be always getting in the way.

Willamena came in a few minutes later and sat on the sofa with a knitting project. She didn't say anything but watched John and Michael interact with a keen eye. John sat with Michael as he pushed a small cart around and stuck toys in it.

"How did he know you had the bear?" He asked Willamena at length.

"Mr Mycroft knows everything." Willamena replied with a small smile.

John ignored the bizarre comment and went to help Michael clean up his toys. More ended up on the floor by the time they were done, but they were both giggling and that was just fine. Ten minutes later John asked if Michael should have a bath and when Willamena said yes he walked with Michael down the hall, the boy's little hand gripping his and his whole body tottering back and forth.

"Aren't you going to supervise?" He hollered back to the sitting room.

"You don't need supervision, John. I'll be here if you need me." Willamena answered.

John smiled at that and walked the rest of the way to the tub. He hummed to Michael as he turned on the tap and let the water get warm.

"It's me for a bath! Look at all the toys daddy has got for you, what a lucky boy! When I was little my favorite bath toy was a floating whale. What's your favorite?" John asked, laying the toys on the floor in front of the boy.

Michael picked up the small boat and then a large octopus as well. He said something that almost sounded like salad, but it wasn't a real word, as children his age often didn't speak English (or any other language for that matter).

"Two favorites, hmm? Well, that's alright. Shall we get in?" He asked, now that the water was warm.

Michael stood and looked into the bath and John stopped it up and turned the tap off when there were two inches of water at the bottom. He pulled off the small shirt and trousers Michael was wearing and carefully undid his nappy. He set it aside and put the boy down in the water.

\-----

Willamena listened to the two talk from the sofa, John and Michael going back and forth with a soft banter. There was giggling and splashing and that was when she decided she had to have John for herself. He would, after all, make a great father.

\-----

After the bath John dried Michael and dressed him in the pajamas laid out for him and a fresh nappy. He cooed to the boy and brought him back out to the sitting room where the lights had been turned down and a fire was going in the hearth. Even now, in the spring, there were still several nights a week that brought the cold in with them. The fire light flickered and the warmth filled the room pleasantly.

John lay with Michael on his chest and sang a soft song to him as he drifted slowly. When he mobile rang he remembered Mycroft would be calling at eight. It was a few minutes before.

"Hello." He said.

"Hello, John. Please hold the phone up so I may speak with my son." Mycroft said.

John held the phone to Michael's ear and the boy smiled widely and looked up. John couldn't hear what Mycroft was saying, but the words are transcribes below for your ears.

"Michael. I miss you dearly. I have to say, the Prime Minister is not on his best behavior tonight. (Michael cooing) No, not ours, the other one. He's had a bad night, found out his wife is cheating. This is why it's best to be alone when in this line of work. Although I'm not alone anymore, am I, my boy? Now I've got my Michael. (Michael giggles) I'll be home late. Be a good lad and show John how well you can sleep. Give the phone to John now, love. John. John."

Michael pushed the phone away and John pulled it to his ear. "Looks like he's done talking for now, sir." John said.

"Yes, we finished our conversation. I'll see you a little after eleven." Mycroft said before ringing off.

"Your daddy's a funny fellow, isn't he?" John asked.

Michael cooed and John stood to put him to sleep.

"Should I put him in the cot in his room or in Mr Holmes' room?" John asked.

"Mr Holmes'. Then come sit with me while I knit." Willamena said gently. John nodded and brought Michael down the hall. John turned on the mobile and moving lights covered the ceiling. Michael stared at them, transfixed. The cot was made up and John set him in it and rocked it for a few minutes until he was breathing evenly and sucking on his thumb.

Willamena was on the sofa when John got back and he sat gingerly next to her. He didn't really know what to expect from the girl. She had seemed sweet enough, but he was afraid she'd got a bit of a crush on him by the way her eyes had seemed to linger.

"Would you like a drink, John?" She asked, lips curling into a smile.

"No, thank you. I'll just read for a bit." John said, taking out a book from his rucksack and avoiding her eyes.

\-----

An hour later, just after John had got off the phone with Mycroft, someone started laying on the doorbell. John rushed to it and opened it quickly, scowling at the person on the step and frightening him a bit going by how his eyes shot open.

"What are you doing making so much noise this late at night?" He asked shortly.

The tall man with unruly curls opened and closed his mouth for a second before he could speak. "I'm looking for my brother."

"You must be Sherlock. Come in out of the cold." John said with a sigh.

Sherlock let himself be corralled in and stripped of his greatcoat. He heard a cry for the hall and John hit him softly in the arm before tugging him down towards the crying. Sherlock was surprised to see the baby was in a cot next to his brother's bed.

"Oh, Michael, all's well. This bad man woke you, didn't he? Well he's going to hold you while I get you a fresh nappy, isn’t he?" John said, rocking Michael in his arms before handing him to a startled Sherlock.

Sherlock held the boy at arms length while John ran to the other room. The baby rubbed its eyes and fat tears rolled down its cheeks. John was back quickly and chuckling.

"Hold him to you, for God's sake! He won't bite!" He said as he lay out what he needed.

Sherlock held the baby under one arm and John put his hands on his hips and tried hard to frown over his smile.

"Have you never held a child before?" He asked gently.

"No. Not really my area." Sherlock said uncomfortably.

John took Michael and turned him so he was facing Sherlock, then pressed him so he was against Sherlock's chest with his head resting on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Now hug him." John said, and when Sherlock looked confused, just sort of holding Michael up, John went around his back and hugged Michael to Sherlock's chest with one hand supporting his bum.

Sherlock felt something warm and alarming unfurl in his stomach as John held the boy, and by proxy him. He felt the thing in his belly grow wings of some sort when John whispered in his ear.

"Hug him. Like me."

Sherlock wrapped one and then the other arm around Michael and tried not to spout some kind of useless trivia about babies, not wanting to ruin such an admittedly fragile moment. Michael breathed softly against his shoulder and Sherlock let himself relax.

"Good, now I'll teach you how to change a nappy." John said with a victorious grin.

Sherlock was about to protest, but John was giving him a look that told him he'd be in trouble if he did, so he simply held the child until John took him back. He undid the pajamas and set Michael on his back.

"The pins on the side come off...like so, and you wipe down." John said, cleaning Michael up and setting him on the new nappy. "You're lucky that was only pee."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the thought of worse and John laughed. Once the baby was back in his pajamas and sucking his thumb John held him out to Sherlock again and looked on. Sherlock pulled him against his chest as he'd been shown and John squeezed his shoulder as he passed.

Just then the front door opened and Mycroft walked in, looking exhausted, and made his way to his bedroom. He saw Sherlock's back and Michael's sleepy face and he nearly stomped his foot. John walked back in at that point.

"Mr Holmes, you're home early. How did the-" He began.

Sherlock had turned around by then.

"What is my brother doing with the baby?" Mycroft asked sternly.

"I know how to hold a baby, Mycroft." Sherlock spit.

Michael started to cry at the tension in the room and John took him from Sherlock and walked to the door.

"When you two are done bickering we'll be in the kitchen." He said, eyebrows raised.

\-----

Fifteen minutes later Sherlock walked out of the bedroom and stood in the foyer quietly. Mycroft came out and straightened his tie before handing John a cheque and taking Michael. He breathed deeply before turning to Sherlock with the sleepy child.

"Your uncle will see you this weekend. Let's go to bed now." He said. "And John, I'll see you tomorrow at ten thirty in the morning."

John stuck the cheque in his pocket and ran a hand through the child's hair before going to the sitting room to grab his things and say goodbye to Willamena. His things were there but the girl was gone. When he got back to the foyer and Sherlock wasn't there his stomach dropped a bit. Maybe he had been too hard on the boy, he only looked seventeen after all.

The whereabouts of both Sherlock and Willamena were uncovered upon exiting the house. The two were having an argument in the courtyard. John couldn't hear what they were saying, but Willamena stopped speaking when he closed the door and he figured it was about him.

"Do you need a ride, Sherlock? I'm heading back into town." John said as he neared the two.

"I'm sure Sherlock can get a cab." Willamena said with a false smile.

"It's no trouble, really." John said to Sherlock instead of the girl.

Sherlock nodded tensly and followed John to the plain sedan Mycroft had lent him. They got in and started off towards the road in silence. Once out of view of the house John spoke.

"Everything alright?" He asked.

"Willamena doesn't like me and my brother is afraid I might drop the child, or some such nonsense. My best friend just OD'd and the detective at the Met that I've been working with is being a prat. So no, everything is not alright." Sherlock said softly.

"Do you have to be anywhere soon?" John asked.

"No." Sherlock replied, refusing to meet John's eyes.

"Good." John said, pulling off the main road and down a winding path to a creek.

Sherlock remained in the car, wondering what John was doing when he put it in park and went to the trunk. John came back with a large blanket and his rucksack in his arms and stuck his head in the window.

"Well, come on." He said with a small grin.

Sherlock got out and John turned off the car and led him to a clearing. He spread out the blanket and sat down on it, opening his rucksack and pulling out a candy bar. He patted the space next to him and Sherlock hesitantly sat down.

"You can see the stars really well out here." John said, folding his jacket and sticking it under his head.

Sherlock did the same, although without the ease that John had. John was obviously comfortable in Sherlock's presence and wanted to be there, something that confused the younger boy.

"So we're...looking at the stars?" He asked as he lay back.

"Yup." John said.

"You're not going to ask me about my feelings?" Sherlock asked, a little paranoid.

"Nope." John said, opening the candy bar and breaking off a piece. "Here."

Sherlock didn't know how to say no to the offer so he took little nibbles from the edge as they lay in silence. The stars were nice, he thought, and John was warm next to him. The world was quiet here, although you could see the lights of the city, and things seemed suspended in time.

"You were really good with Michael tonight." John said at length.

"No I wasn't. I don't know what to do with a baby, I don't even know how to hold one." Sherlock replied with a frown.

"You do now." John said. "You did well."

And if their fingers brushed against each other's there was no one but the crickets to tell, and crickets, like babies, don't speak English.


	5. Because You Are, John Watson, You Are

John fell asleep on the blanket in the field looking at the stars. When he woke hours later Sherlock was curled around him. He brushed the hair from Sherlock's brow and the younger man woke slowly, stretching and nuzzling into John before becoming fully cognizant and sitting up quickly. 

"I'm sorry. I must have dozed off." He said, refusing to look into John's eyes. 

"It's fine. I promise. You were asleep, I won't take it as anything more than comfort, yeah?" John said in a soothing tone. 

Sherlock nodded and stood carefully, brushing the wrinkles from his shirt. John stood as well, grabbing the candy bar wrapper and his jacket. 

"Help me fold the blanket." He said, picking up one side and waiting for Sherlock to do the same on the other. 

When they brought the corners together and their fingers brushed together Sherlock took in a quick breath and felt a flush move over his cheeks. He felt ridiculous for how the small touch had affected him and worked to keep his mouth shut. Once the blanket was a small square again John walked to the car and stuck it in the boot. 

"Let's get you home." He said gently as he got back into the car. 

\-----

The next morning Mycroft was eating breakfast with Michael on the grass in the back yard when John arrived. He offered John a pastie and had Willamena get him a coffee. Michael was chewing on a biscuit and laying in his father's lap looking up at him. He seemed transfixed by Mycroft as the man read the paper aloud. It was surprisingly the politics section. 

John sat quietly for almost a half hour while Mycroft finished up reading to Michael and then set the paper aside and took the boy up in his arms. 

"Those silly Brazilians are going to get themselves in trouble, aren't they, Michael? They really have no idea the powder keg that's building just south of their border." And then to John. "Do you keep up on politics, John?" 

"Not really, sir." John replied, worried the man would take it as a sign of weakness. 

"That's alright, I suppose. Sometimes I think I won't want Michael to go into government." Mycroft replied seriously. 

John had to cover his smile as the man was looking so far ahead. 

"Well, I must go." Mycroft said as he kissed Michael on the forehead and passed him over. 

The boy held his hands out for Mycroft, not seeming to want to leave his arms, and made unhappy grunting sounds. 

"I know, Mike, you don't want Daddy to leave." John said, bouncing the boy in his lap. 

Mycroft's face suddenly clouded and he bit off quickly, "Don't call him Mike. His name is Michael." 

John was shocked by the surprise outburst and Mycroft admitted something he didn't mean to. 

"His father used to call me Myc. I miss him dearly." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." John said quietly. 

"It's fine. You couldn't have known. Michael's father died in a car accident. It's just me and him now." Mycroft said, clearing his throat. 

"Was he...was he your husband?" John asked. 

"I think that is enough personal talk for one day, John. If you'll excuse me." Mycroft said, brushing Michael's cheek and standing. 

\-----

John and Michael spent the afternoon playing in the garden and then the sitting room when a bit of fog rolled in. Willamena was nowhere to be found and John was happy for that after Sherlock's reaction to the girl the night prior. He felt protective of the boy for some reason, even if he was only a few years older than him. He seemed lost. 

\-----

Sherlock paced the hall outside Mycroft's office. He needed to see his brother but, as usual, he was in some sort of diplomatic meeting. Anthea had asked him to have a seat but he couldn't seem to sit still, so he paced. And he paced. And then he paced some more for good measure. 

A half hour later a group of men left Mycroft's office, laughing jovially and patting each other on the back, and his brother motioned him in. Sherlock passed through the men with a frown and took up his pacing in front of his brother's desk. 

"What is it, Sherlock? I really am quite busy." Mycroft said. 

"Willamena is trying to sleep with John." He said agitatedly. 

Mycroft sighed and put his papers down. "Sherlock, why are you concerning yourself with the goings on of my staff." 

"Don't call him that." Sherlock hissed. 

Mycroft cocked his head to the side and grinned slightly. "You don't want me to call John, a staff member, staff?" 

"That's not-that's not...I think you should talk to her about it. It's unprofessional." Sherlock blurted out. 

He could feel his face burning up and knew for a fact that he was blushing terribly. Before his brother could get in another word he stormed from the room. Mycroft sighed and shook his head. It seemed his brother, for the first time he could remember, had a crush. How quaint. 

\-----

Sherlock spent the rest of the day being increasingly rude to his professors and almost getting punched by a classmate. He was ridiculously angry at Willamena, he knew it was ridiculous, but he'd never been so immediately attracted to someone before. Hell, he was so infrequently attracted to anyone besides basic arousal that he could count the instances on one hand. 

\-----

That evening Mycroft got home around seven and was pleased to see John making up some fresh baby food while he sang to Michael. 

"Said I'm hooked on a feelin'  
Ba dum ba   
High on believin'  
You're in love with meeeee"

Mycroft took a seat at the kitchen table and watched John sway his hips. He couldn't help the small smile that played across his lips at the antics. Richard had been one to sing while he cleaned the house. Mycroft always found it endearing. 

"Michael, I have to say this sweet potato and beef looks good enough to eat. You'll have some in a sec, little man." John said as he finally turned around. 

His faced flushed and his eyes shot wide as he saw Mycroft sitting just across the room. 

"You have quite the singing voice. If I was so inclined I might go with you to one of those karaoke bars." Mycroft said with a smile. 

John was a bit uncomfortable at that and tried to come up with a response. 

"Don't worry, John. I'm not interested. My brother, however, seems to have taken a liking to you." Mycroft said as he stood to dish up some of the puree John had just finished. 

"That's...I think lines got crossed last night. I was just trying to be kind. He was having a bad day." John said, clearing his throat nervously. 

"Of course, how silly of me." Mycroft said with a smile. 

Michael was bouncing up and down and holding his hands out for Mycroft. The man put a flannel over his shoulder and picked the boy up. 

"Michael, do you like having John around?" Mycroft asked. 

Michael squealed and gripped Mycroft's shirt tightly. 

"I think that's a yes, John. I've taken the liberty of moving your things in. I hope you don't mind." Mycroft said as he began to spoon Michael some dinner. 

"No, that's, that's kind of you, sir." John said. 

"I'll feed Michael now, if you'd like to unpack the things in your room. Remember what I said about keeping the walls clean. Pins only." Mycroft said. 

"Yes, sir." John said, already walking down the hall to his new room. 

Inside there were a few boxes filled with his things along with some new clothes laid out on the bed. He ran his fingers over the soft blue jumper and wondered how Mycroft knew his size. There were two pairs of trousers and another jumper, this one in a dark red. He slipped it on over his button up and grinned at himself in the mirror. Damn, he looked good.   
A half hour later there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find Mycroft standing with a cup of tea in one hand and a very sleepy Michael across his chest. He held the tea out and John took it. 

"I see you found the clothes I set out for you. I hope they're to your liking." Mycroft said. 

"Yes, sir. Thank you." John said, taking a sip of his tea. 

"Michael and I are off to bed. I've some work to go over and he likes to hear my voice. I'm afraid he still misses his parents quite a lot. I hope he doesn't wake you tonight. I'll see you in the morning, John." Mycroft said, padding back down the hall in socked feet. 

\-----

Mycroft lay Michael down on the bed and opened his briefcase. He took out the papers he needed to look over and then sat on the bed and pulled Michael up to rest against his chest. The boy sucked hard on his thumb and closed his eyes. 

"I had a good meeting today. Sherlock showed up and had a fit about Willamena hitting on John. Showed his hand I suppose. He's a fragile boy, you know, although he doesn't like to show it. 

I'll let you be fragile if you need to. You don't have to be strong unless you want to. I won't have you growing up convinced you can't show your emotions. I made the mistake of instilling that in Sherlock, and I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself. 

I didn't know. I really didn't. And then here you were, looking up into my eyes and gripping my hand and I just...I just...I can't do that to you. I'll do it right this time, I promise." Mycroft cleared his throat and brushed the beginnings of tears from his eyes. "Now, shall we talk about Uruguay?" 

Michael cooed and stretched and Mycroft kissed his forehead before starting in on his days business. 

\-----

John was sitting on the floor by the fire with the door to the hallway open two hours later when a soft knocking came to his window. He jumped and looked over to see a pale face on the other side of the glass. He stood and came closer, opening the window to find a distressed Sherlock on the other side. 

"What are you doing?" John asked. 

"Didn't want to wake the baby. I need your help." Sherlock said. 

John sighed and moved aside. "Well, come on in." 

When Sherlock attempted to clumsily climb through the window John stopped him. "I meant through the door, you crazy git! I'll open the back one." 

John walked out to the hallway and quietly put the code into the alarm system and opened the door. Sherlock hobbled in and John threw an arm around his waist. 

"Are you drunk?" He asked as he pulled Sherlock to his bedroom and sat him on the bed. 

"No, I hurt my foot. I need you to look at it, see if it's broken." Sherlock said as John closed the door. 

John knelt at his feet and carefully held his ankle as he unlaced the boy's shoe. He slipped it off, along with the sock, as Sherlock hissed in pain, and lay it in his lap. 

"Tell me why you didn't go to A&E." John said. 

"Don't like hospitals." Sherlock replied. 

"Well, I think you lucked out." John said, maneuvering Sherlock's foot and pressing down on his toes. "I'm sure it hurts like hell, but it's not broken. Sit here while I get you an ice pack." 

Sherlock nodded and winced as he moved his toes and John walked down the hall to the kitchen. He grabbed the promised ice pack from the freezer as well as a glass of milk and a couple biscuits for the thin boy and made his way back. He took the bottle of paracetamol from the main bathroom and finally got back to Sherlock. 

"Take two of these." He said, kneeling and wrapping a flannel around the ice pack before pressing it to Sherlock's foot and pulling out the desk chair to prop it up. 

Sherlock glanced at the glass of milk and biscuits hesitantly as John finished looking over his foot and sat next to him on the bed. 

"That's for you. Gotta get some meat on those bones. Now, tell me what happened." John said. 

Sherlock took a small sip of the milk, and then another when John looked at him pointedly and then picked up a biscuit. "I'm a detective." He said. 

John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock huffed. 

"I AM! Just not, you know, legally. I'm only twenty, after all. I take cases, though, and help people out. Tonight I was trying to get some stolen papers out of a chimney and stepped on the hearth wrong. I heard a crack and my foot bloody hurt, so I though I broke it." Sherlock said. "Must have been whatever I stepped on." 

"So you go around solving cases?" John asked as he lay back on the bed. 

"Yes." Sherlock replied. 

"And you're like, a detective. That's neat, I suppose. Had a feeling you might be a genius, social ineptitude and all." John said, poking Sherlock with his elbow. 

"I AM a genius." Sherlock said with a frown. 

"Alright, genius, impress me." John said with a teasing grin. 

"I know that jumper is new, you'd never be able to afford it on your own, so you're already depending on my brother. I know you're a medical student and want to be an army doctor some day. You're hiding your homosexuality from everyone because your sister was kicked out of the house when she came out. You desperately need to know you won't turn out to be an abusive father like your own, so you take babysitting jobs to prove to yourself that you're a good man. Which you are, John Watson, you are." Sherlock said it all so quickly that it took John's breath away. 

After a few moments of silence Sherlock became uncomfortable. "Did I get it right?" He asked. 

"I'm not gay." John said. "I'm bi." 

"Well, can't get everything right." Sherlock said, biting his lip and looking away. 

"That was...brilliant. Bit embarrassing, but brilliant." John said with a slow smile. 

Sherlock turned to him with a confused look on his face. "You think so?" He asked. 

John gripped his shirt and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Sherlock didn't respond so John backed away. 

"Sorry, I thought-" John began. 

He was cut off by Sherlock literally pouncing on him and pressing him down onto the bed. The plate of biscuits and the ice pack hit the floor but Sherlock was licking into John's mouth sloppily so neither noticed nor would they have cared.


	6. Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. Just porn. And some feels. Embarrassing porn.

After a few long moments of Sherlock veritably ravishing John's mouth the younger man drew back and ran his nose across the length of John's throat. He felt John swallow and drew back to look down at him. John was struck by the vulnerability it the boy's eyes. 

"Was that...was that okay?" He asked quietly. 

John ran a hand up into his curls and brought their lips together once more. Sherlock's skin had warmed up from being outside and John suddenly remembered why the boy had been outside his window in the first place. 

"Christ, is your foot okay?" He asked, slipping from the bed and gripping it gently in his hands. 

Sherlock winced a bit and nodded. John's eyebrows furrowed and he kissed Sherlock's ankle gently before setting down his foot and going to lock the door. Sherlock watched as he cleaned the spilled biscuits and picked up the ice pack. He wanted to be touching John, but John was cleaning. Had he done something wrong? 

John came back and took Sherlock's face in his hands. He smiled softly and it took Sherlock's breath away. He'd never been the recipient of such a look from anyone else. Tenderness, fondness. John dropped his hands to Sherlock's chest and started unbuttoning his shirt. 

"You're going to stay here tonight. I don't want you going off and hurting yourself again. You'll lay still and sleep for me, hmm?" John asked as he finally pushed Sherlock's shirt down his shoulders. 

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded, eyes never straying from John's face. John undid his trousers next and pushed Sherlock so he lay back on the bed. He slipped them down his legs and off the uninjured foot with ease, then carefully pulled from the cuff until they were off completely. He folded both pieces of clothes and set them at the desk. 

"Under the covers with you." He said softly. 

Sherlock crawled up the bed and slipped under while John untucked the bottom of the sheets on that side and folded them up so Sherlock's feet were free. Sherlock wiggled his toes a bit in the warm air and John chuckled. 

"Good and comfy?" John asked. 

Sherlock nodded silently at him so he removed his new jumper and button up and hung the former in his closet. He slipped out of his trousers and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms before clicking off the light and getting into bed next to Sherlock. 

The dark led a kind of surrealist touch to the situation. With the light on John was the sturdy medical student and Sherlock was simply injured. With it off the space between their bodies in the bed seemed laced with electricity. Sherlock couldn't bring himself to move or breathe as he waited for John to decide whether or not to touch him. 

John set the alarm on his mobile and rolled onto his side with his arm around Sherlock's waist. The younger man sighed deeply, a sigh which was nearly a moan, and John rested his head against his chest. Sherlock wanted to do much more of the kissing, but didn't know how to ask for that so, instead he put his hand over John's. 

He let it settle there for a while before slowly pushing it down into the thatch of tightly curled hair above his cock. He closed his eyes and breathed roughly through his nose. 

"Only of you lay still." John whispered. "Can't have you moving about with an injury." 

Sherlock kept his eyes clenched tightly and whimpered as John pushed his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of his pants and scratched slowly through the hair at the base of his cock. It made his already flushed prick rub against the back of John's hand in a way that was torurously light. He didn't dare thrust his hips, as John had asked him to be still, and instead ended up grinding his teeth. John pushed his pants down so they fit below his bollocks and continued. 

He kept his thumb around the base of the cock and snuck his fingers down to pull Sherlock's bollocks up and press just behind them. Sherlock grunted and bit his lips and John pressed a kiss to his chest. Sherlock squeaked a bit and went still and was suddenly coming all over himself like a bloody teenager. 

"It's not-I don't always-I can last longer than that!" Sherlock stuttered quickly. 

John shut him up by kissing him roughly in stark contrast to the soothing motions of his hand that brought out the last few drops of come from Sherlock's softening prick. His body felt rather more like a liquid than a solid at that point and he was glad when John got out of the bed to fetch a wet flannel. If he was meant to move anytime soon it just wouldn't happen. 

John came back with the warm flannel and cleaned Sherlock off, kissing everywhere he dragged the wet cloth, and then tossed it aside. He kissed Sherlock again and helped the boy pull his pants back up, then lay back and shoved a hand into his own pants, covers still bunched around their calves. 

"Do you want me to-" Sherlock began. 

"Talk to me. Anything, say anything." John whispered, already thrusting into his own fist. 

Sherlock didn't want to ruin the moment by asking what John wanted him to say so he just started describing how his body reacted to John. "When you kissed me my brain shut down for a moment. That's why I didn't move. I was completely serene for a second there before I realised I was supposed to participate. I could already feel heat pooling in my belly by the time I was on top of you. I dreamt of you last night. That's why I-why I climaxed so quickly. I was primed for climax the second I entered the room. I already knew what you would taste like and-"

John groaned deep in his throat and arched his back and came. 

"And I was right." Sherlock finished softly. "I knew how you would taste, John." 

John grinned and kissed Sherlock's shoulder. "That's because you're a bloody genius." 

\-----

Outside the door Mycroft stood with his back against the wall. He heard giggling. Giggling from two people and then the unmistakable rumble of his brother's voice. That he'd managed to get himself into John's bed so quickly was a modern miracle but he didn't let himself think on it, instead padding the rest of the way to the laundry room and getting a clean nappy for Michael. 

\-----

The morning came about as early as those things often do and Sherlock was contemplating how to extricate himself from John's arms and leave without him noticing. Right then said med student awoke. 

"Don't even think about it." John growled and held him closer, seeming to know Sherlock's thoughts by the stiffness of his torso. "You're to lay here for another minute and keep me warm, then I'll make us tea and we'll get some ice back on your foot." 

Sherlock sighed as if he were going to protest and instead put a hand gently on John's bicep. John smiled and nuzzled against his chest. The morning light was coming though the window and melting off the frost on the pane. Sherlock pulled the duvet up higher and buried his nose in John's hair. He hummed appreciatively and John chuckled. 

"Like my shampoo, do you? You can use it later of you like." He said. 

"No it's...something else." Sherlock said, not wanting to use a line like 'quintessential John' or 'something uniquely male'. 

Instead he pulled John's left hand up to his face and licked the palm. There were still the salty remnants of sweat and come there, and the taste was stronger as he pushed his tongue at the webbing between John's fingers. John looked up to see the tip of his tongue peeking out and cursed. 

"Jesus." He huffed. 

Sherlock's eyes slid open and his eyebrows lifted as he glanced over at John as if to say 'what is it?'. 

"You're licking dried come off my hands, don't look at me like you don't know how bloody sexy that is." John said with a sharky grin. 

Color bloomed on Sherlock's cheeks and he looked away quickly, letting go of John's hand. 

"Don't stop." John pleaded. 

Sherlock took a deep breath and gripped John's hand with more intent. He turned his palm and sucked the pinky between his plump lips. John sighed and closed his eyes, feeling his prick stir to life as Sherlock applied pressure. The younger man ran his tongue along the pad and cocked his head to the side so he could take in another. John's ring finger held more of the taste, bitterness mingling with salt. 

By the time he'd sucked John's thumb into his mouth he had a fully hard med student humping his hip and sloppily jerking him off with his non-dominant hand. It was enough. He came with John's thumb still in his mouth, moaning around it and thrusting his hips. John ground against him and let out a little 'ah' noise before going still. 

"I think...I think we should get in the shower." John said sleepily.


	7. Miserable And Elated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written half on my phone and half on my friend's nook. Mine is in for repair and I hope I don't have a million typos. I apologies in advance.

After a shower that took longer than it should have and a careful reaplication if trousers Sherlock was ready to face the day, if not his brother. John was back in the room in a few minutes with tea and two pieces of toast. Sherlock turned his nose up at the food but was happy enough to add sugar to his tea and sip it on the bed.

"You arent going to have any toast?" John asked with a frown.

"Not hungry." Sherpock replied truthfully.

John cut a smallish bit from the toast with jam and held it up to Sherlock along with a glass of water. Sherlock took both and just looked at the bread as if it were some kind of alien species. John sighed and leaned in to pop two white pills into the younger boy's mouth. It took a moment of holding them in front of Sherlock's lips for the younger man to open his mouth.

"Eat the toast so the paracetamol doesn't upset your stomach." He said.

Sherlock took a long sip of the water as he eyed John suspiciously. John rolled his eyes and Sherlock took a bite just to show he wasn't horribly opposed to it. He took another because of the smile it brought to John's face. The last he took becuase he didn't currenlty have a place to put the toast down.

\-----

Across town Greg was drying his hair and talking to his daughter. He had taken a phone call from Mycroft the day prior asking if they would like to come over for lunch and a playdate. He had accepted happily and packed most of the things they would need for the day. He was excited to see Mycroft in daddy mode.

"Well, love, what should I wear?" He asked Penelope.

Penelope looked up at him with wide eyes and a slightly vacant expression and Greg nodded as if she'd offered her opinion. He pulled out his best pair of denims and a blue button up shirt and slipped into them while continuing to talk to the little dark haired girl.

\-----

Mycroft was pacing in the kitchen with Michael when John came out with the empty cups and plates. John stopped in his tracks like a naughty child and then shook himself and smiled in greeting.

"You had a midnight caller." Mycroft purred as he rested Michael against his hip.

"Oh, that was, um, did we make a lot of noise?" John asked, unable to tamp down his rising blush.

"No. I just happened to hear you giggling on my way to the laundry room. Tell my brother he's welcome to stay for lunch. I've invited detective Lestrade and his daughter." Mycroft said, doing that obnoxious thing where he pretended to check his nails.

Michael was gurgling and holding a hand out to John as the man's mouth hung open. Mycroft grinned and walked to the sink. John watched him go and was reminded of Willamena saying he knew everything. He apparently did.

John spun and made his way back to his bedroom, closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. Sherlock looked at him with what was supposed to be disinterest but was inching towards apprehension the longer John remained silent. Finally Sherlock couldn't take it anymore and spoke up.

"What is it that's got you near catatonic?" He asked.

John looked at him as if just remembering he was in the room and cleared his throat. "Your brother invited you to lunch."

Sherlock crossed his arms. "And you were under the impression that we'd had a fairly clandestine meeting in HIS house."

John wilted a bit and shrugged. "Sounds stupid now that you say it."

"Other people's opinions often sound stupid compared to mine." Sherlock replied.

John swatted his shoulder and slumped down on the bed next to him.

\-----

In the kitchen Mycroft was making Michael breakfast and bouncing the boy on his hip. Michael was talking away indistinctly while the prim man spoke about their day to come.

"We are going to see some friends today. Detective Lestrade is a good man with a fairly good head on his shoulders. He has enough sense to keep Sherlock off the big cases. Some day he'll crack. No one can keep up with Sherlock's particular brand of harrasment forever, not even mummy. 

She will be down tomorrow. I know she'll love you. Father as well, he has a soft spot for babies. Perhaps I shouldn't refer to you as a baby, you are one year old after all. Still have yet to master language, however I am told that you aren't behind in that at all.

Sherlock and I had a secret language when we were young, have I told you? It was more structured than yours, of course, but you're well on your way. 

(And then softer)

My name is Mycroft, as I'm sure you have noticed, but you can call me Myc, or Mikey, or even father if you like."

The boy gurgled and reached out for Mycroft's face, chubby fingers brushing against his cheek. That feeling was back; the tightness in his chest and stinging in his eyes. He wanted so badly to squirrel the little boy away and keep him safe forever. It seemed unfair that he would have to leave Mycroft alone some day. 

Was this a feeling all parents had? This amalgamation of fear and hope? This yearning for things to stay the same and grow all at once? He felt as though he might be overcome by it and never want to leave his bed again.

Michael cooed and Mycroft brushed a hand across his eyes and went back to readying the bottle for the boy. There really was no reason to dwell on it and nothing he could possibly do to make the feelings stop. He was miserable. Miserable and elated.

\-----

"I'm not staying for lunch. There's no way I'm going to sit around and watch my brother stuff his face." Sherlock grumbled.

"Will you come back tonight?" John asked with barely covered desperation.

"I might have a case. There's a man who owns a restaurant downtown that I'm trying to get off a murder charge. I have a few people I'm meeting that might be able to supply an alibi." Sherlock replied.

"Oh." John said. "That sounds..."

Sherlock said 'exciting' just as John said 'dangerous' and they smiled at each other.

"Do you ever...go in for danger, John?" Sherlock asked, voice impossibly low.

"And if I do?" John asked.

"I could always use a second pair of hands." Sherlock replied with a smirk.

"You can borrow mine any time you like." John said, jumping on the bed and slipping his hands under Sherlock's bum.

Sherlock moaned and threw his head back when John buried his face in his neck. John sucked the skin between his teeth and gripped his arse tightly. That got a hiss and hum of appreciation and Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him until he was sitting in his lap.

"Christ, you're gorgeous!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock licked a fat stripe up John's throat and felt John swallow roughly. 

"Where the hell did you come from, Sherlock Holmes?" John mused.

"Just outside London." Sherlock replied flatly, eliciting a chuckle and shake of the head.

\-----


End file.
